As he pondered this, stroking his chin and gazing toward the northeast, he considered the value to be discovered in such a majestic tower. The old wench couldn’t have taken everything with her, even in death. A veritable store of knowledge, the wealth of generations, and more unknown treasures awaited.
Unwilling to cross the Ivory Sea and leave behind his life of comfort, Bijam had paid a band of explorers to raid the tower instead. When none returned, he made inquiries and discovered all four had been reduced to ash, sizzled by lightning bolts cast from stone guardian figures atop the tower.
Next, he paid a wizard from Liang, although that did no good and the man was transformed into a frog the moment his chants began to unravel the tower’s mysterious defenses. Or had it been a lizard?
Another hireling sent to accompany the wizard had reported the entire incident to Bijam, informing him that prior to the spell rebounding off the door and cursing the mage, it had withstood several incantations of the darkest Liangese arts. It hadn’t budged, almost as if the spire had been protected and guarded by a supernatural entity.
And that’s when Bijam began to wonder. According to the local legends, a smitten ifrit had raised the Jeweled Garden to court the ancient sorceress inhabiting the tower. To woo his ladylove, he’d erected a spectacular garden made from dozens—no, hundreds—of gemstones and made of it a wonder unlike anything the rulers of Samahara or Liang had ever seen.
It was in fact so beautiful, Liang’s emperor at the time had requested permission to see it, wise and humble enough to avoid angering its creator. Was there truth to the story? While the mighty lesser jinn lacked the limitless power of their ifrit cousins, they were fierce when threatened, harmless when ignored or under control. After all, there was a jinn in Bijam’s ancestry, his great grandfather a servant bound to the royal family years ago until his recent escape.
For now, the Opal Spire would wait while he figured out a new plan to bring it into his possession—one which didn’t involve the sultan gaining anything.
His uncle didn’t know the true extent of his wealth and power. Thanks to the hapless fools below, and many more like them across the city, his personal coffers overflowed with gold and his personal harem held a variety of girls to meet any of his pleasures. He gave the sultan enough to be appeased, and nothing more.
A small cough drew his attention away from the spectacle below and back to the guest Bijam had left standing only a few steps past the doorway. The fat, balding man dabbed a silk kerchief against his sweating brow.
“Tell me, Hansin, what happened with the spice shop?” Bijam asked. “Why do I not have the money I sent your men for?”
“Forgive me, Vizier. My men were…” He wiped his brow again and averted his gaze to his feet. “They were waylaid on their way to deliver your request.”
“Explain.”
“I received word that those in the shop put up a fight, Your Excellency. One of my men was injured, so I told them to lay low for a day and night before they approached me with your wares.”
Bijam steepled his fingers and watched the man squirm. “A wise notion, but I take it this did not help.”
“N-no, Your Excellency. When I arrived, I discovered one man dead, burnt to cinders, and the other addled beyond all comprehension. He tried to throw himself to the guards so I had to, ah, take care of him.”
“And my wares?”
“No sign of them. They had no money upon them, nor was it left in any of our secret drops.”
“I see.” Bijam leaned forward, taking great pleasure in the way Hansin flinched back. “So, you do not have the goods I am owed for the sum I paid you, and rather than seeing that little shop closed and broken, it flourishes with customers buying expensive and rare commodities. One would think your men had never been there at all, and my coin was taken and run with.”
“No, Vizier, please I swear. I have your money, and it is quite fervently offered back to you for my failures.”
“Yes,” he snapped, his voice sharp as a whip. “Your failures. Are your men so feeble that they cannot handle a drunkard, a boy, and a girl? And then sloppy enough to be caught afterward? How does that reflect upon you, Hansin? Perhaps I should place my faith in another instigator. One worth his salt and capable of completing my objectives unseen.”
Hansin threw himself to Bijam’s feet and lay prostrate upon the ground. “I will hire others, Your Excellency, at no charge to you. I will see this set right.”
“Too late for that. A robbery so soon after the first cannot be so easily ignored by the guards without being commented upon, and your incompetence is unsettling. Begone before my goodwill dries and you join your man in a fiery death.”
The quivering man kissed Bijam’s silken slippers, then crawled backward out the door with his face lowered. He’d left a single pouch on the floor bulging with the gold paid him for the job. Bijam left it there, content to ignore it while he once again turned his attentions to the gamblers below.
Darrius, the spice merchant, had come in during his discussion with Hansin. Bijam studied the graying man while tapping his fingers against his staff of office. According to his various spies, the man rarely worked his own shop, leaving that responsibility to his two children. How then did he manage to get ahold of three sought after spices?
It couldn’t be mere luck, and they had no notable connections aside from a few business alliances with the local farms.
Bijam stroked his chin and considered the death of the thief. Only magic could incinerate a man down to the bone, but Darrius was no magician.
He pulled a silken cord nearby. Summoned by the bell, a young woman stepped into the room. Her dark hair hung loose around her pale golden shoulders and wisps of crimson silk clung to her full curves.
“You there, girl. I want you to bestow extra attention upon Darrius tonight. Keep his cup filled and grant him whatever pleasure he desires so his bets don’t let up. Even if it means you’re under the table with your head in his lap and your mouth full all night.”
The young woman bowed her head in acquiescence. A year in his harem breathing in his special poppy blend had rendered all his little pets docile and willing to do whatever he asked of them. The others who refused to obey, regardless of the treasures or fair treatment given to them, found new lives awaiting them in the salt mines. With their slender and little fingers, young women also made the ideal laborers to loosen gems in the rock quarries.
He’d ensure Darrius bled whatever rubles he had left. Then he would see what other tricks the man and his family had.
Chapter
Business at the spice shop remained steady and consistent over the scalding summer months, especially once Kazim invested some of their profit into frost rose blossoms imported from Eisland to Varkas. The sweet and fragrant pollen added a cooling quality to any beverage, and was favored among their wealthier clientele. When the petals dried, they became like satin, so Zarina preserved the flowers and sold them to the tailors, occasionally keeping a few of the smallest buds to accent her personal dresses.
By the start of the second month, she no longer had time to deliver orders, and her brother was forced to hire an additional helper while she worked the counter alongside him or mixed their most popular blends in the stockroom.
Starlit evenings with her nighttime admirer continued without interruption despite Kazim’s numerous hints and inquiries about her beau’s identity.
Who was this man? What were his intentions?
Would they be marrying?
Zarina didn’t know the answers to her brother’s questions, but what she had learned during those months together was that Joaidane had brought indescribable joy to a life that had been dull and tainted by bitterness. Weeks passed and suddenly, summer was gone. Fall arrived in its place, another two months of meeting the gentleman sorcerer passing in a blink. And yet, he’d never tried to do more than kiss her during their nights together.
Was it that he found her physically undesirable?
Would he kiss her with such passion if he did? Certainly not.
Then it was his honor, she supposed. And if masculine honor shackled him, she would have to be the one to seduce her midnight suitor. If only she knew what to do and where to begin. If knowledge was what she needed to gain, there was only one place to visit.
After a quick glance up and down the deserted market, Zarina sprinted beneath the dawn sky down the row of opening shops and hurried through the only open door. Although Amira’s bookshop had always been her favorite stop since childhood, hard times and poverty had put an abrupt end to frequent visits. Lately, lack of free time had been to blame.
“Zarina? What are you doing here? If you’ve come to ask after your mother’s belongings, they’re safe from your father’s treachery.”
With their newfound profits and the comfort of a modest savings, Zarina had visited the pawnbroker and repurchased the bulk of her mother’s stolen possessions. Owning them again wasn’t enough, however, and she’d placed them all in Amira’s care. It was the only way to keep them all beyond Darrius’s greedy clutches.
“Um… no. I know you’ll keep her belongings safe, Amira. It’s something else… something personal. I would like…” She cleared her throat and dropped her eyes to the floor. If I’m not mature enough to talk about sex, I’m not old enough to engage in it. “I need a book related to sex.”
The older woman’s eyes glittered. “Has your father arranged a marriage between you and your mysterious traveler?”
“N—” Was it safe to mention anything more to Amira? Lips pressed together, she gazed at the older woman behind the counter and decided yes, she could trust Amira to keep her secret. “No, Father hasn’t arranged a marriage for me, but my… friend travels to Naruk each month, and I’ve waited long enough.”
Amira’s grin widened. “Well, let’s not have him or you disappointed. Come.” She parted the beaded curtains behind the store counter and gestured for Zarina to follow her through the bookkeeping office and into a narrow hall. At the end, they reached a door, unlocked by a slender brass key.
Upon their entrance, the wick of a magical lamp ignited and produced a golden flame. Zarina stepped into a small room with no windows. A half dozen three-tier shelves held books with spines of varying thickness, some cloth and others leather bound.
“Anything you could possibly want to know will be here. You can find books covering every mating ritual from the islands of Wai Alei to the mountains of Cairn Ocland. Magical spells. Pleasurable positions.”
“I, uh… I had no idea you had so much.” Zarina had expected a slim volume or two at best, certainly not a room devoted to the art of lovemaking. Ducking her head into a basin of frigid water probably wouldn’t alleviate the heat surging to her face. What in the name of the goddess had she gotten herself into?
“It is a service I offer discreetly.” Amira traced her fingers over the spines of a few leather tomes, then tugged one free from the shelf. “Here. Sexual Discovery for the Beginner.”
With the book splayed over her palm, Zarina flipped through the pages to reveal detailed, black and white illustrations of anatomy and positions. Her eyes widened, and she nearly dropped the book on the floor.
“There are pictures!”
Amira chuckled. “There are several. Do you want the only experience you have with the male genitalia to be on the day a man tries to touch you with it? Trust me when I say the little ones in diapers we change from time to time are no comparison once they’re an adult.”
Overwhelmed, she clutched the book against her chest and stared at the risqué banner on the wall, illustrating a man penetrating a woman from behind as they sprawled on their sides. Every corner of the room advertised illicit, sensual wares she’d never imagined before.
“I also provide… other items of interest,” Amira said.
“Other items?”
“As you know, my husband is the most talented glassblower in all of the seven sands.” The woman glowed with pride as she opened a chest filled with translucent penis-shaped objects of varying shapes and sizes. The next container revealed sexual toys in a dozen interesting, artistic colors. “These are my favorite. They’re called dildos, and you may take your choice of any one. No young woman should go into sex for the first time without understanding her own body.”
“I couldn’t possibly….” The vibrant colors and ridged curves beckoned her, forbidden treasures meant to keep secret. Anticipation clenched her belly, and uncomfortable heat bloomed between her thighs. “Why would you need one if you have a husband?”
“A husband isn’t always available, perhaps he travels for a time and isn’t home. Like your young man, my Dragan is gone most of the month taking his wares from city to city. Besides,” she added with a wink, “he enjoys using them on me as much as I do.”
Sweet merciful gods, was she having this conversation?
Zarina’s gaze drifted to a masterpiece of swirling gold and black glass. Hints of red surfaced when she turned it in her hands, like fire sparking within its heart.
“I will take this one if that’s all right.”
Amira smiled and patted her cheek. “It suits you. Give me a moment to package it.”
When Zarina pulled her small purse from the thin sash looped around her waist, Amira waved her money aside.
“No. It is a gift. Were your mother here, I believe she would have wanted you to be prepared. So please, go and enjoy your handsome stranger. Spreading a little more happiness around this village is payment enough for me.”
“Thank you, Amira. I… thank you,” she whispered again. She ducked her head, clutched the package containing her new items, and hurried away to tend the spice shop before Kazim arrived.
Her book may as well have been a lump of forbidden treasure or gold, as much as it taunted her throughout the long hours of crushing herbs in the mortar with the pestle. She attacked peppercorns with new ferocity until her arms burned and her fingers ached, working the only way to distract her curious mind.
Kazim asked once about the mysterious paper-wrapped box in the storeroom, but she panicked—shrieking at him to leave it alone until her terrified brother pretended it didn’t exist.
Once the market day dwindled to its final minutes, Kazim glanced up from his bookkeeping and eyed her. “You’ve bought yourself some new book or trinket, haven’t you?”
Zarina froze. “M-maybe.”
He sighed. “Very well. You deserve it, and we’ve certainly made more than enough money to splurge a little. Go ahead. I’ll clean up the mess here.”
Zarina took her box and dashed into the dusky evening without stopping until she reached home. A blessedly empty home. Her father always awakened around noon, ate whatever food she’d stored for him in the cooling box, and then trudged out to begin his day of bartering their belongings or wasting time at the cordial houses. Acquiring a measure of prosperity hadn’t improved their familial relations.
After shutting the bedroom door behind her, she drew the shades over the windows, opened the box, and removed its strange contents for examination. Her brother wasn’t due to return for another hour at the least, granting her time to read in peace.
Zarina sat in the center of her bed and spread the book over her lap. With each chapter she read, the activities became naughtier and more risqué, proving without a doubt she’d missed out on numerous experiences while enduring forced chastity.
No more. If she couldn’t have a husband, if she couldn’t have a man of her own, she would at least enjoy an evening with a man she respected and adored.
“Oral sex,” she murmured, reading the chapter heading.
People did this?
Bewildered, she turned the next page to an illustrated diagram. The pictures flushed her face with heat and created a flutter between her thighs. She glanced at the box on the bed beside her and tipped open the lid, revealing the stunning glass dildo.
She couldn’t bring herself to use it as intended, not when she wanted J
oaidane to be the first to know her body—the first to physically enter her at least—but it occurred to her she could use the replica for other purposes, such as practicing these strange techniques.
“Grasp the man’s root with a firm but gentle touch,” she read aloud.
She picked up the glass sculpture and traced her fingers across the smooth surface. Everything had been captured in exquisite detail, right down to the veins and ridges. For a few quiet moments, she ran her fingers up and down the toy, exploring and learning.
“Relax and loosen the throat as his manhood penetrates deeper…”
Her brows knitted together. She raised it to her mouth and mimicked the image. The glass shaft descended and slid over her tongue, but as soon as it reached the back, she gagged and pulled it out again.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, putting the glass toy away. But she kept the book, too intrigued to set it aside. Every page unveiled a new secret, but the real question, however, was whether or not she could bring herself to try anything she had learned.
* * *
Zarina had been swept away for another ride with Joaidane the previous night. Too shy to apply her newfound knowledge regarding sex, she sat at his side with their hands clasped and enjoyed the night as he regaled her with tales about the rival kingdoms across the sea. They kissed again at her door and went their separate ways for the day with promises to meet at dusk.
When Kazim awakened her in the morning, she groaned.
“Up, lazy bones,” he chided. “We have a palace order to fill today.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll be ready shortly and meet you there.”
Her day passed with the usual tedium, but anticipation flushed energy through her body and made the hours fly by. When she finished the final order of the day, she raced home and retrieved a few coins from her secret stash behind a loose brick in the wall. Two silver solterras would be enough for a proper bath, wax, and massage at the woman’s spa.
Zarina and the Djinn Page 10
